


matryoshka

by eraserheadbaby



Category: Tsukihime
Genre: Depression, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Identity Issues, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Incest, Introspection, Threesome - F/F/M, bc akiha and shiki are freaks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 22:03:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20955632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eraserheadbaby/pseuds/eraserheadbaby
Summary: What good is a doll that doesn't let everyone play with her?





	matryoshka

The surface of the Tohno mansion, with every wall, with every fence, with every part of grass in its colossal garden, gives the unshakable feel of a haunted place. And that's part truth, isn't it- it's haunted by ghosts, members of a family that should have been extinguished long ago but persists and wallows in its abnormality. Such ghosts are amongst its residents now, the three shadows that blend together in a bedroom wall hidden deep inside the mansion.

Kohaku runs her hands up and down Akiha's bare thighs, as Akiha indulges in her passionate liplock with Shiki. There are two voyeurs to the sensual scene: the wall hosting their engaged shadows, and the objective judge, the mirror in Akiha's bedroom reflecting their sin with no-condemning clarity.

Well, Kohaku herself is an spectator now, she guesses. Akiha, the woman carrying the legacy and history of the Tohno name on her slender shoulders, the name painted in Kohaku's mind with the red of imposing anger. Shiki, the man that sprouted from the boy that once, unknowingly, paraded his happiness when Kohaku had nothing but a window to look out from, dangling it in front of her like a piece of meat to a famished dog. The two are now right here in her eyes, in a paroxysm of lust that Kohaku can only look at as an outsider.

She joined this position by her own volition. But whatever emotion was possessing her when it started is not here now, and Kohaku is only left with her emptiness. And like always, she can replenish it with nothing but a pointless need for vengeance, an ache to see the Tohnos at least just a bit as miserable as she is.

With the natural gentleness her limbs were born with, Kohaku touches Akiha's face, separating the unorthodox siblings. Angling Akiha's head backwards so she can look into the anomalistic irises that threaten to turn red anytime now, she dips into her wet mouth and tastes the warmth inside. 

Of course, like Kohaku already knew he would, Shiki offers no objection to her impetuous gesture, only keeps his arms around them both, and there's an unexplainable contentment in his eyes that almost overpowers the arousal that was already there. He patiently waits for Kohaku to get her share of Akiha's luscious lips, until he can pull Kohaku towards him and plunge her into a deep kiss.

After this domino of kisses, Kohaku's lips are a furious red, shiny with spit that isn't hers. She's used to others leaving their trail on her body, of course, and she's even more used to the Tohnos' ways of marking her skin, ever since she was a girl. Like a proper doll, she bared it all, bared all the bruises and blemishes, until there was nothing left but a body like rotten fruit, like a bloated corpse in an archipelago. In the end, the marks remained on her skin as stigmata for a girl that never wanted the sacrifice, never sought this sick holiness. In the end, she didn't feel them at all.

But now her lips tingle from the air flowing against them, her mouth throbs from the overuse. What costume has she put on this time that grants her these reactions? Is she Kohaku, the clumsy maid? Kohaku, the ever smiling girl? Kohaku, the pliant servant of the Tohnos? Hisui?

Or can a doll feel her own body after all?

She has no answers, but it's not like they would make a difference. Whoever Kohaku is, her nerves, her veins, they all tangle together in a downward spiral that leads to the two people with her right now, and the helix follows a predestination she can't change.

Besides, what good is a doll that doesn't let everyone play with her?

* 

Kohaku lays splayed across the white sheets, panting erratically with her head buried between thighs of milky white skin. In front of her is Akiha, biting her lips and tagging on her breast as the only reaction to the tongue on her body. Shiki's presence feels unsure behind Kohaku, even as he works a steady rhythm inside her.

Akiha moans sweetly as her lips wrap around her clit, just as Shiki hits a deep spot inside her, and Kohaku doesn't know how to react as her body is swept ashore by the pleasurable tide. She's a stranger inhabiting this body of hers- it's shocking to suddenly be so aware of it, experiencing all the sensations it can absorb without registering it as an exchange of fluids.

Like every time life throws her a punch she can't counter, Kohaku is tempted to let the phantom of revenge and bitterness overtake her. To rock back against Shiki's thrusts and cry out shamelessly in front of Akiha, or to work her lips and tongue over Akiha with such force that she screams Kohaku's name in front of her beloved brother.

Instead, Shiki turns his timid grip on her hips into a lulling caress, while Akiha buries her elegant hand into her hair. Are they touches of innocent affection, or are they confines bound on a hypnotized victim? Kohaku still can't tell, still doesn't understand anything.

*

Akiha bounces up and down, filling the room with small moans and the sound of her wetness rubbing against her brother's cock. Kohaku drapes herself over her back, and thinks of vengeance. She bites down hard on Akiha's neck, a way of demanding repentance for the necklace of marks that's still on her breasts.

But there is no blood. No copper taste of revenge. The only thing she tastes is skin, raw skin that leaves her as empty as always. Empty, and confused.

*

Kohaku thinks of nothing as she feels the end of this wanton scene coming close, as the pleasure has her in its final throes. She thinks nothing as Akiha's fingers move inside her with delicacy and roughness both somehow, as Shiki inside her mouth feels as hard as he can get, ready to burst. She thinks nothing when her poor body overloads, disconnects from her brain.

Her mind only realigns after the official end, when the two people with her have already fallen asleep at surprising speed. The light is entirely amiss and the window is open, letting the nightly breeze come inside like a burglar. Akiha's bedroom, the room that Kohaku has come to know like the back of her hands after years of servitude, seems like a desolate land, entirely virgin to her dark eyes.

Akiha is on her left, Shiki on her right. Their arms both encircle her waist, and over it, their hands meet, even through their sleep. Kohaku once again finds herself right in the middle.

Is this picture here a harbinger she did not ask for- will she always be the bridge Akiha and Shiki stand on while they live their life and experience love and happiness? Or is she focusing on a wrong part of the picture- will Akiha's and Shiki's arms always be around her? And if so, will their hold be a mooring of safety or will it be a serpent of death?

Will she kill them both before it comes to any of this?

Before she finally falls asleep, Kohaku wonders if dolls get proper endings.

**Author's Note:**

> what better way to celebrate the recent tsukihime news than w a weird ass fic abt my girl kohaku?


End file.
